


Perfect

by ToxicPineapple



Series: Saimota Week 2020 [7]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Crying, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, It's not a big deal but it matters to ME, Lots of Crying, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Killing School Life (Dangan Ronpa), Saimota Week, Saimota Week 2020, Simulation AU, These fucking saps, Trans Saihara Shuichi, implied romantic feelings, virtual reality au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-24
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:06:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24360310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToxicPineapple/pseuds/ToxicPineapple
Summary: And there’s a knot in his chest, thick and heavy with grief, with memories of people he cared about for such a short time, loved so deeply and were torn away from him with no warning at all, but he’s able to push it back. Because regardless of what happens, he’s going to be okay. So long as he has Maki and Himiko. Things will be alright.He turns his head to Maki, meets her red eyes, and smiles. She smiles back at him, a brilliant look on her face, a glow in her eyes. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay now. They’re not going to be suffering anymore.…And then, Shuichi wakes up.---Shuichi wakes up from the simulation.---Saimota week day seven: Free space
Relationships: Momota Kaito/Saihara Shuichi
Series: Saimota Week 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750948
Comments: 18
Kudos: 144





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> written for saimota week day seven! this was a free day :D

Shuichi inhales. Exhales. Inhales. It’s hard to breathe a bit, though whether that’s from all the dust that was scattered when Kiibo destroyed the school, or because of the apprehension of finally leaving, he couldn’t say. Not that it matters. They’re going to get out. The dome is destroyed now, and there’s a bright light shining from it, coming in from the  _ real  _ sky. The real world is welcoming them back with open arms… for better or for worse. And there’s a knot in his chest, thick and heavy with  _ grief,  _ with memories of people he cared about for such a short time, loved so deeply and were torn away from him with no warning at all, but he’s able to push it back. Because regardless of what happens, he’s going to be okay. So long as he has Maki and Himiko. Things will be alright.

He turns his head to Maki, meets her red eyes, and smiles. She smiles back at him, a brilliant look on her face, a glow in her eyes. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay now. They’re not going to be suffering anymore.

…

And then, Shuichi wakes up.

...in a sense, anyway. He’s not entirely sure what just happened for a very, very long moment. One moment everything is bright, and hopeful and warm, and then he’s suddenly… quite dark. Dark, and cold, and surrounded by something. Trapped, in a sense, though he’s not sure why the word pops into his head until he tries to move, and his knuckles graze against something hard, right in front of him. Wet, too. Gross. He wipes his knuckle off on his pants, frowning.

He has a  _ splitting  _ headache, that’s the worst. It’s difficult to breathe, too. There’s something wrapped around his head, pressing into his temples. Shuichi furrows his brow, tilting his head back, and hears a quiet thud as his head plonks back into something soft. It sounds muffled, like there’s material over his ears. Just how much of his head is covered? He lifts his hands, reaching up, traces his fingers over the smooth, round surface where his face should be, and decides that he’s wearing a helmet.

Like something an astronaut would wear, in fact, but he doesn’t want to think about that, astronauts, so he tucks that away.

What has he figured out so far? He’s not a detective, of course, and he never was, but he still has his rationality, his deduction skills. They helped him so much in the game that it’d be a shame to put them to rest now. Where is he? Clearly he’s lying down, as his weight is evenly distributed among the back of his body. When he lowers his arms they rest on something smooth but cushiony, like a leather couch, almost, but this material is much too smooth to be actual leather. Synthetic material, probably. Some kind of faux leather. A poor, cheap imitation. Mmm. He presses his knuckles into it. It doesn’t give easily, but there’s an indent underneath his rear, his shoulderblades, that makes him think he’s been in here for a very long time.

(Case in point: He’s not wearing his binder. He  _ was,  _ just now, back with Himiko and Maki, but he is no longer. It’s strange, and slightly scary to think about, but he moves over it, shelving it for later.)

He can only move his arms a few inches to the sides before they bump into walls on either side of him. Or, not walls, maybe-- at least, not the walls of a room-- but they’re parallel with his arms and they appear to form some kind of enclosure around his body, so. Walls. He inches his hands along the flat surface until they meet, extended very slightly in front of him. Ugh. That’s so gross, why is it so wet? Actually,  _ Shuichi  _ feels gross. Sweaty. It smells awful in here, like sweat, and the clothes that he’s wearing are sticking to him. Uncomfortably, he lowers his hand and pulls at his shirt. It’s a sweatshirt, which provides him some relief, but not much. Ew. Ugh. Ew.

Conclusions, conclusions. He’s in a box, lying down. A coffin? That’s ridiculous, though, what kind of undertaker would put someone into a coffin wearing a helmet? Beyond that, now that Shuichi’s adjusted to the darkness a little better, he can see that it’s not actually pitch black. There’s a dim green glow coming from the visor of his helmet. Hmm. He didn’t even know there was a visor. This is really weird. It’s reminding him of when he woke up in the locker, banged on the door until he fell out, and Kaede…

…

Don’t think about Kaede right now, it’s fine.

So he’s wearing a helmet, in a box. He’s been in here for a long time, so long that his breath has made condensation build up on the lid and and on the mattress. He’s not sure how he’s been getting food and water and using the bathroom, but those are semantics that he’ll get into later. For the moment he focuses on the question of where the hell he is. That is to say, he has no idea. And how long exactly has he been in here? Where are Maki and Himiko? What even is th--

There’s a hissing sound, and then a pop, and then a bright green light floods Shuichi’s vision. He flinches, screwing his eyes shut inside the helmet, and hears something clattering on the floor. Quite loud. A girl’s voice, familiar and warm, raises dramatically, as though scolding someone, and tears spring to Shuichi’s eyes, his heart racing, skipping a beat.

He opens his mouth and calls out hoarsely, “Akamatsu-san?”

“Saihara-kun!” her voice replies, bright, enthusiastic, slightly anxious. “Hi! It’s me! I know you’re really confused, I just need a second, okay? To get off the helmet and stuff. Can you sit up for me?”

“A-Ah,” good question. When Shuichi moves, a rush of dizziness hits him, and he slumps back, lifting one of his hands to press into his temple. As he is wearing a helmet, this endeavour is unsuccessful. He hears Kaede hum, murmuring something, and then feels warm hands slipping around his shoulders, pulling him up. They are much, much too large, and much, much too warm to be Kaede’s hands. But he doesn’t think about that, he just leans into the touch, because for some reason it  _ burns  _ but it feels so good also, raising all the hairs on his body, such that the tears in his eyes are on the verge of spilling over. The last time somebody with hands like those touched him, it was, it was--

“Hey Shuichi,” Kaito’s voice mumbles, close but muted because of the helmet. “Sit tight for a sec, yeah? This is gonna hurt a bit, but I need to get that damn helmet off of ya.”

There’s pain in his temples, a lot sharper than the dull throb that he’s been adjusting to since he opened his eyes to the dark, and then a flood of  _ much  _ brighter light, and Shuichi screws up his face, curling in on himself, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. His cheeks are wet. He’s crying, he realises, shaking, and he doesn’t know  _ why,  _ he doesn’t understand, why are Kaede and Kaito here, they’re dead, they sacrificed themselves so that he and Maki and Himiko could get out, just like Tenko and Gonta and everyone, and--

And Shuichi lowers his hands, looking around wildly until grey meets plum, and he cries harder at the sight of Kaede’s gentle smile. When she reaches out to take his hands he intertwines their fingers, weeping. He doesn’t understand, he doesn’t get it, it doesn’t make any sense, but her hands are so soft, and he’s remembering sitting across from her in the classroom again, the warmth and comfort of that moment, where he realised that maybe that’s what it feels like to have an older sister.

“It wasn’t real,” Kaede says, after a moment, tears catching in her pale eyelashes. “None of it was real, it was all a simulation.”

Shuichi would cover his mouth as his hands are free. His heart stutters in his chest. He wants to ask,  _ really?  _ but considering that she and Kaito are, quite literally, right here, that feels almost a ridiculous inquiry to make, so instead he stares at her, wide-eyed, as tears continue to stream from his eyes. Kaito’s hands return to his shoulders, presumably after he set down the helmet, and then an arm tucks around him, and Shuichi swivels his head, looks up, and feels his heart stop when he looks into Kaito’s warm lilac eyes.

God, he’d… almost forgotten the exact shade of purple they are. Kaito’s eyes are soft and crinkled at the edges, framed by long, dark eyelashes and remarkably bright. His lips are curled into a soft smile, his brows pinched together, and for a minute Shuichi isn’t sure what’s the cause of such a look, but then Kaito says, “Shuichi, I’m so damn  _ proud  _ of you,” and something inside of him crumbles into pieces and he throws himself into Kaito’s arms.

He smells like generic body wash and deodorant. There’s a vague whiff of floral laundry detergent in there too, probably from the large pullover hoodie that he’s wearing, that Shuichi fists his hands in and then shoves his face into, his body wracked with sobs. The Kaito he knows and remembers smells like body spray and old spice, and the lack of the familiar, endearing smell is almost jarring, but the Kaito holding him is solid and warm and his low voice cracks a bit when he hums, strong arms coming to curl around Shuichi’s waist.

And he feels…  _ real.  _ Undeniably so. There was this one night during the killing game (simulation?) where Shuichi had a nightmare. He doesn’t remember it now. Kaede was the subject, probably. She was the subject of so many of those. In retrospect it could’ve been any of them though, Kirumi or Ryoma or Angie or Korekiyo, because he cared about all of them and all their deaths burned into his eyelids after the fact. At any rate Shuichi showed up at Kaito’s door, and Kaito was there to hold him. His arms were gentle and warm, cathartic in a way that was difficult to process in his post-nightmare haze.

This is different. This is-- this is real. It’s real because the edge of the box Shuichi was lying in digs into his stomach a bit, and his shoulders feel sore from the angle, and the scratch of Kaito’s goatee against his forehead is a bit uncomfortable. It’s real because Kaito is shaking too this time, gently, quietly, and Shuichi can feel the warm, wet spots on the crown of his head where his tears are soaking into his hair. It’s real because everything is slightly gross and slightly painful and the lights overhead are burning into him like he went out on the open sea, and it’s real because everything is crashing into him all at once and he can barely breathe for it.

It’s  _ perfect,  _ too. Real and perfect.

Shuichi manages, through uncontrollable sobs, to find his voice. “M-Momota-kun,” he chokes out, gasping, grasping at his shoulders. “I was s-so scared,” his voice breaks, cracks, and his breath hitches, but he keeps going, despite a hand on his back, rubbing up and down. “I thought that-- I thought I was gonna  _ die,  _ and I was ready for it, but I--” he screws his eyes shut, weeping quietly. “I missed you so much, I didn’t know what-- I couldn’t--”

“You did so good, Shuichi,” Kaito’s voice is rough, broken, and Shuichi knows he’s crying too, but he’s speaking so softly, his head tilted down so his lips are brushing against his ear. “I was cheering for you the whole time from out here. I knew you were gonna be able to do it. I knew you wouldn’t give in,” Kaito combs his fingers through Shuichi’s hair, and it feels so  _ nice,  _ even though he knows his hair is probably totally matted and gross. He leans into the touch, shivering. “I knew I was right believing in you, Shuichi. You made me so proud.”

_ God,  _ Shuichi wishes he had the words available to respond to that, tell Kaito how much it means to him, the warm, full pride in his voice. In lieu of doing so, he pushes himself up further, more securely, and tucks his arms around Kaito’s neck, leaning in to breathe him in. He’s shaking still, sobbing, but there’s a deep contentedness coursing through him, working its way into his chest. “I’m so glad you’re alive,” Shuichi whimpers, faintly. “You and Akamatsu-san… and everyone else?”

“Yeah,” Kaito breathes out. “We’re all here.” And he’s being honest, too, Shuichi can hear it. A faint  _ nishishi,  _ Kiibo (!!!) yelling, annoyed, Himiko sobbing and Tenko murmuring reassurances. People are here. Everyone is here. They’re all… alive.

And Kaito is alive. Shuichi pulls back again, this time so he can cup Kaito’s face in his hands, feel the scratch of his facial hair against his palms. More tears fill his eyes when they make eye contact, and he sees them swimming in Kaito’s too, and Shuichi saw him cry once before, right after Korekiyo’s execution, but this is different. This is so much different. “I missed you,” he whispers, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “Every moment you were gone, I missed you.”

“Me too, bud,” Kaito touches their foreheads together. “Me too.”

_ But he’s here now,  _ Shuichi thinks, leaning into the embrace again, crying silently. He’s here now again, and he’s solid and he’s real and he’s whole, and he’s  _ alive,  _ and it’s perfect.

(There are things they’ll need to talk about later. Where they are, why they’re here, did they really agree to this, all of that. Shuichi will have many questions to ask in due time and he’s sure Kaito will try his best to answer them. For now though, for now, he indulges in the warmth and comfort of an embrace he never thought he’d get to feel again.)

**Author's Note:**

> ahkdsfh post-game crumchy.... they're in wuv :pleading_face:


End file.
